Diaries of Salaman, the Master Pyromancer
by Gutter Dreams
Summary: Control is power and power is flames and flames are the ultimate fantasy. [one-shot]


Birth of the Flame : 1

There are some things, Lana told me, that take both careless recklessness and mindful control to use. Now what kind of twisted, backwards saying is that? A weapon requires one thing to be used: the person using it, and why should fire be any different? I have used sorceries and even dabbled in miracles, and I know just as well as anyone proficient in the field that power can be unlimited, but only if you let it be. You are your own source of power, and you set your own limits, and, with the right weapons, you can have the potential to be unstoppable! Lana doesn't know what she's talking about.

* * *

My Chat with Quelana

I tried to voice my opinion to her, but all it earned me was one of her unbearable lectures. She gave me the same old talk about how I'm too young, too uncontrolled. I'm getting so tired of it.

On the bright side, she taught me my first pyromancy spell: Fireball. Small and weak, but it's a nice start. Practicing with it has strengthen my point. I hurl those flames like there is no tomorrow, until my reserve has run out and my hand starts to hurt, and what bad comes of it? None. A bonfire refuels my flame and my power, and then it's back to square one again. I think she's either exaggerating to scare me into not letting the power go to my head, or she actually believes what she's saying. Either way, it's all foolishness.

Lana caught wind of it from her other student (that no good, snitching, cowardly nark) and instead of maiming me with a lecture, she asked me to show her how I throw the flames. I threw about five fireballs at the surface of a boulder, and then she held her hand up to stop me and just nodded. Just nodded, really slow and thoughtful, like she was judging me quietly without wanting me to know. Yeah, well, I noticed alright. I may not have perfect form, I told her, like your other god-sent pupil, but I know how to use some simple Pyromancy. She just nodded again, which made me infuriated, and told me to go practice some more. This will have to be my last entry for a while, because hell if I'm going to be shown up by some gutless teacher's pet.

* * *

Birth of the Flame : 2

Practice makes perfect, they say. Well, guess what, they're wrong.

Whatever grandiose revelation Quelana wanted me to have about the manner of flames hasn't been had yet. My flame is controlled as I wish to control it, and that old wives tale of having to fear the flame is about as false as it gets.

Although, I am certainly warming up to the idea. What a fantastical speculation that the flame is a force within itself, with the capability of shaping us just as much as we shape it. Fascinating!

It is often that I feel my flame moving beneath the skin of my palm before I even summon it forth, as if it aches to show me it's power and potential. Hush, little flame, because we still have so much to learn. It is easily becoming my favorite weapon; my sword might start turning to rust soon from how much I favor burning my foes to ashes.

Limitless possibilities, I tell them. Well... I mostly just tell that to myself. Anyone would fuss if I told them and wail about my safety. "Fear the flame, fear the flame!" They would have a fit.

* * *

Tragedy (For Some)

The time has come. The day has arrived. Lana's other absolutely wonderful, handsome, amazing, charming pupil has lost his mind and hollowed his way to a fine, ashen grave.

She does not sob over his loss - I heard she was the one who found him and had to put him out of his misery - but she has definitely wilted. She put her hand on my shoulder, the first time she has ever made physical contact with me, and told me that I'd better not let such a thing happen to her finest pupil. Her finest pupil. First I was "her troublemaker" and now I am "her finest pupil".

She said that this serves as a lesson, perhaps the greatest lesson of all: that the flame can and will corrupt if you do not keep a tight grip on it. Instead of arguing against her, as I would have liked to do, I agreed and promised to never take the flame so lightly ever again. Mostly true, but mostly untrue. The nark died not because of the flame, but because he was too weak to harvest the flame. To make the flame his own. Quelana would most certainly disagree.

Her finest pupil... Yes, the fool's loss does not bother me one bit.

* * *

Musings on Spells

She has taught me so much since his passing, as if she's afraid I too will lose my mind and wishes to spread her knowledge as quickly as she can before that time comes. Combustion, Fire Whip, Fire Orb, Firestorm... It's almost too much to take in all at once.

So thrilling to have much more in my arsenal, however! Where they once tumbled messily from my palm, spells flow from my fingertips like the graceful wings of a phoenix, beating with powerful heat and consuming fire. This kind of power has to be a sin; it has to be something forbidden and shunned by the Gods, because, oh, how close I feel to them when I use it.

The ones that explode, those are my favorite. Yes, Fire Whip licks the sweetest trail of embers and Fire Orb comes close to setting my heart aflame, but a pyromancy that can light up an entire cavern, that can blind any man who dares open his eyes to its magnificence! What a spell that would be.

I can already feel it's heat radiating against my flesh... Oh, I could go on and on about such things.

* * *

My Departure

She's taught me all she knows, she said. Now it's time for me to venture out, test myself, and spread my flames to others willing to learn. Once again, she did not cry in this time of sadness, but instead, she smiled. She told me I will be the last pupil she ever spreads her flame to; that if she must teach another, they must already have a grip on pyromancy before she does so. It was probably the most touching sentiment anyone has ever given me, to be honest. I wished to embrace her and tell her how I felt. How did I feel? How do I? It's confusing, especially when she called me her rascal, like she was so fond of all the arguments we had over the nature of flames.

My dearest Mother of Pyromancy... My dearest Lana. I will visit you again, I told her. I will find you here in this horrible cesspool and take you away forever. Take you away from the painful memories of your lost mother and sisters. She smiled in response and told me to go make something of myself.

Of all the spells she taught me, none of them make my chest more ablaze than thoughts of her.

* * *

The Great Swamp and Carmina

A bustling town of wondrous minds is what it is. It's been quite some time since my last journal entry. Time spent traveling and worrying and wondering. Perhaps I neglected recording my findings for pain of glancing up on the page and spotting the final words of my last recording. I try not to think of such things now.

I found a willing and promising pupil right away, just as I settled down to make myself a home in the muggy outskirts of the Great Swamp. Carmina is her name, and when I say she is promising, I mean it. Time has been cruel to me, but if only I were a bit younger...

She holds the flame like she was born to and seems as in love with it as she must be. Fascination is key, I tell her. You must always adore the flames, for only then can you possess the passion that comes with love to harness them. The insightful young lady always has something fresh on her mind, always some new idea on how the power can be internalized and used for not destruction, but support of the self. I see greatness in her future. I see many referencing her name and all the new creations she's made for pyromancy. I tell her this every day, and it makes this old man happy to see her smile at the compliments and work twice as hard to prove me right.

* * *

Birth of the Flame : 3

"Birth" is a term that does not do it justice. For I have done something no other has done nor dared to do. For I have created the one truest pyromancy, the ultimate spell of total destruction. Those dreams I had as a young man of fire so hot and powerful that it radiates against my flesh have become a reality.

"Great Fireball" I call it, in honor of the first spell my Lana taught me. It's being worshiped and praised as one of the greatest pyromancies created in the last hundred years! She doubted me, I knew she did, but I knew exactly what I was talking about when I said that the flame should most definitely not be feared; it should be embraced!

I embraced the flames and molded them to my liking, and they gave me unimaginable power in return. Such a wonderful, powerful force of nature... So beautiful and brilliant. To hold such a thing in one's hand, to create something new and ground-breaking with it... My god.

My flame has never been stronger. It has never been more writhing beneath my flesh and screaming to get out. And I have never desired more to crawl within my own skin to curl up beside it's warmth and let it consume me completely.

* * *

Laurentius

I've taken on another pupil. A bright young man with fire in his eyes and goodness in his heart. He's lived in the Great Swamp all his life, he tells me, has always been fascinated by Pyromancy and, when he heard of the "Great Fireball" living not too far away from his own home, he had to come and see me in the flesh.

"Great Fireball". This is what people have taken to calling me, after my greatest creation. I've also heard whispers of "the Master of Pyromancy", but I will try not to let such titles go to my head.

The poor boy was a nervous mess when he wandered up to my little wooden shanty and stuttered out that he wished to learn more of how to wield fire. I soothed his worries and shared with him my flame and since then he has transformed into a bright-eyed young man. Not as bright as my gifted Carmina, though not too far behind.

He's not as hardworking, but I can tell he has a passion like no other. He will sit for hours and listen to me tell him stories of my own teacher and my own experiences with learning. He will stare, wide-eyed and attentive, when I tell him my views on the flame, how the flame is the ultimate power in this world that should be adored by all for its excellence. He always nods, enthusiastic and enraptured, and asks if I will tell him the tale of how I first met the great Mother of Pyromancy again.

He reminds me of myself when I was younger.

* * *

The Flame

Never again, never again. I cannot do it! I cannot create anything better or bigger or more perfect than what I have already created! How could I possibly? It is perfection! Perfection turned to flames, which is already perfection itself!

No, I can't. Control, she says, control. But what could she possibly know. She didn't create it. I did!

Oh, my dear Lana... Oh, how I miss you.

Laurentius is a fine young man, a fine young man indeed. He has left the Great Swamp to go make something of himself, like Carmina once did. Like I once did. What little they know. You can't make something of yourself when what you wish to make is inside you all along. The Flame, of course. They strive to become better but to become better you would have to become Fire itself. Of course. Of course.

It has been days since I picked up this old quill. Years, maybe? I can't seem to remember. I read through some old things I wrote when I was much younger and it nearly saddened me to tears. I was so weak back then. So insistent that the Flame should not be feared. Foolish Salaman. You had no idea. You ARE the Flame.

It is a new day. I can't think of a fitting title. I'm going to visit my Lana. I'm going to wrap her in my Flames and take her away Forever. She does not know it yet, but she will soon. I wonder if she still wears those old tattered, black robes. Of course she does. I only just saw her wearing them Yesterday.

She will know better than anyone that Fire is the enemy of Dark. Fire will be our Salvation. The Master of Pyromancy will Show her.

If only all could know it's Beauty. All of it.

Everything.

Consumed by Flames. And Burning Brightly. Limitless

My Flesh and My Soul are Alive With Flames


End file.
